


Here With Me

by Crollalanza



Series: Iwaoi - Philos Series [9]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Childhood, Friendship, M/M, slight relationship hint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 11:51:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4390829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a summer Tooru remembers with mixed feelings. He recalls the rows between his parents, the realisation that simply because they smiled it didn’t mean they were happy. He’d cried at night, burying his head in the pillow so they couldn’t hear, and he’d finally understood why Hoshiyo’s eyes were so often red.</p><p>But it’s the summer he met Iwa-chan and, when he looks back, that outweighs all the bad. </p><p>From the age of eight, Tooru celebrated his birthday with one constant - Iwa-chan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here With Me

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for Oikawa Tooru's birthday and I'm really sorry it's late. It's also been written heavily under the influence of listening to Dido 'Here With Me'. 
> 
> This is basically a story about friendship, with a small amount of angst.
> 
> Here With Me follows the same canon as everything in the Philos series. It is not necessary to read the others for this to make sense, although it is written as a companion for Iwaizumi's birthday story 'The Only Truth' - and you might enjoy them. :D
> 
> Thank you twitter folk, especially medeadea for cheering me on when I was struggling.

The night before his birthday, Tooru leaves his curtains open before he snuggles into bed. He’s left them open, and the window too, because he wants to wake up with the sun on his face.  On special days, he has to pack in as much as he can. And it will be a very special day because it’s his birthday and everything’s about him.

 

_Eight_

It had only been a few short weeks ago that he’d kicked up a fuss over the news that he wouldn’t be in Tokyo for his birthday. The thought that he’d be away from everything he knew, that he wouldn’t even have the familiarity of his bedroom set his protests into overdrive because it wasn’t fair, it was _never_ fair that they were making him move – AGAIN!

And neither the promises of a bigger bedroom, nor a television of his own would reconcile him to the fact that Miyagi was to be his new home.

(“It’s a dumb, stupid place!” he complains.

“You’ll fit right in then,” his sister replies, looking up from the box she’s packing.

He scowls at Hoshiyo, ready to call her stupid and dumb, too, but the tremble of her lip and the dark shadows under her eyes quell his tongue.

“Why do we have to go?” he asks instead.

And she sighs because their parents have explained it a zillion times, but Tooru still doesn’t understand, doesn’t get why they have to leave just when he was starting to make friends.

“Bigger house,” she says. “There’ll be a garden that you can run around in. And you can invite all your friends over. Just think, Tooru-chan, you can have sleepovers without worrying that you’ll disturb Father.”

“I won’t have friends! What’s the point? We’ll only move again.”

She shrugs. “Mum says this time’s the last.” Her voice quivers a little. “And this time I believe her.”

Tooru says no more, but starts to pack his own box with the few books he wants to keep, his collection of Pokemon cards, and finally the alien toy he’d had for his fifth birthday. Reaching for the packing tape, he’s about to close the box, but the toy stares mournfully up at him, so he fishes it out.

“He’s coming in the car with me,” he says loftily. “That way he can see exactly where we’re going and will know how to get back here.”

Hoshiyo doesn’t laugh at him, but smiles and ruffles his hair. “Obi-Wan’s going to love Miyagi. It’s the countryside, so the mothership can land and find him.”

“They’ll take him away?” Tooru clutches Obi close to his chest, not upset, but angry at the thought of being pried apart.

“Nah, they’ll visit, maybe take you both for a ride to Venus, then land back in the garden in time for tea.”

He frowns. “Not Venus.”

“Mars if you’d rather,” she replies, then picking up her box, she gets to her feet. “Come on, we need to finish this before Dad comes back. You’ll be fine in Miyagi, Tooru-chan. Lots of new boys at your new school.”

“I’m not making any friends!” he shouts after her.

Because there’s no point. Despite what his Mum says and what Hoshiyo believes, they’ve moved five times in his life, so why should this move be any different.)

 

It’s at a birthday party for a boy he doesn’t know (his dad works for Tooru’s dad, and so it’s suggested they could become friends) that Tooru meets the boy who will change his life. Not the birthday boy – he was an idiot who tried to bully Tooru. It was another guest, one who was also there on sufferance, one who snaps and snarls an introduction, who appears scary but is the very opposite. It’s his determination not to fit in, that and the huge chip he carries on both shoulders that appeals to Tooru. His frown looks to have been sculpted into his design, his fierceness a very real part of him, not learnt but innate.

 

 “Did you enjoy the party, Tooru-chan?” his mum coos when they’re travelling back in the car.

“Was okay,” he replies, trying to sound offhand because he’d told her very plainly that he DID NOT WANT TO GO.

“Icharo-san said you played nicely and were very polite,” she continued. “She complimented your perfect manners. Were the boys friendly?”

He keeps the bland look on his face. “Icharo-kun was annoying. I didn’t speak to his friends.”

(Because Iwa-chan had not been a friend, disliking Icharo more than Tooru had.)

She’s barely listening, but nods and mutters a ‘that’s nice’ before slowing for the lights. “So do you want Icharo-chan to come to your party? That would good manners, don’t you think? We could have it in the garden. Maybe invite all of them.”

He shakes his head. The car has stopped while they wait for the lights to change, and so he seizes his chance. “I played with one boy. I’ll invite him, but not the others. And I want him to come and play soon because he’s fun.”

She acquiesces. “What was his name, darling? ”

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” he replies, whistling the name through his teeth.

“I can’t place him. Was his mummy there?”

“No, _his_ daddy picked him up.”

She blinks a little at that; he knows why.  Tooru’s father was supposed to have picked him up. It was the only reason Tooru had agreed to go to the dumb party because his dad had promised to take him out afterwards.  But he’d not come back from Tokyo in time, blaming his flight in one breath, but a few days later telling Tooru the train had been delayed.

(Tooru remembers still, so very clearly, how Hajime’s face had erupted into the hugest smile on seeing _his_ dad, and right then, he’d felt a little envy clutch at his heart.)

“Which boy?” his mum asks, changing the subject yet again. “What was he wearing?”

“Blue t shirt and red shorts,” he lies, keeping his mischief to himself, because even at the age of eight he knows why she’s suspicious. She’d already remarked that Iwa-chan in his black vest top looked like a rough child, with plasters on his elbows, bruises on his legs and hair that didn’t lie flat.

Because Tooru switches between nagging and sulking, his mum tracks down Hajime’s parents, getting the number from Icharo’s mum, and invites him over to play two days after the party. And although he arrives with an even more entrenched scowl and a young, pretty mother pushing him forward, Iwa-chan’s still there, bowing to Tooru’s mum, and handing over the gift of flowers for asking him to play.

Immediately recognising him, she looks dismissively at the flowers, giving Hajime the iciest of smiles before stepping to the side to allow him inside. But it’s when he’s moved, and his mum is still on the doorstep, one hand on her sunhat, the other cradling her swollen stomach, that Tooru’s mother’s manners overcome her natural disinclination to make small talk and she opens the door wider.

“You must stay and have a drink,” she tells her. “Tea, or would you prefer something cold on a day like this? We have lemonade.”

“That would be lovely,” she replies, and smiles so genuinely back that maybe she missed the acid welcome given to her son. “I find this heat exhausting in my condition.”

“Not long to go,” she soothes, and gestures to the living room.

“Ah, two more months. I know I look huge, but it’s twins so ...”

Impatient now with the niceties of grown-ups, Tooru grabs Hajime’s hand and tries to drag him outside to play, chattering all the while and not minding when Hajime pushes him off.

“He’s not at all shy, is he?” he hears Hajime’s mum say. “It’s as much as I can do to get Hajime to say hello to people. He’s a charming boy, a real credit to you.”

“He’s never been shy.” Tooru’s mum speaks with warmth accepting the compliment, adding, “He hasn’t stopped talking about ‘Iwa-chan’ as he calls Hajime.”

“Ha! All I got from Hajime was that the party was ‘okay’, but that was enough for me to know that something good must have happened.” She gets up, shielding her eyes with her hand and stares out of the window. “What a lovely garden. You should go outside with Tooru-chan, Hajime. Just think how far you can run.”

His scowl deepens. “Don’t want-”

“Yes, you do,” she murmurs, and ruffles his hair. “I’ll tell you when I’m about to leave.”

It hadn’t occurred to Tooru before now that Iwa-chan didn’t want to come over, but he can see a very real reluctance to leave his mum, even though he’s gazing in awe at the garden.

“C’mon,” Tooru says quietly, and touches his hand, not grabbing this time. “There’s a tree we can climb. _Or_ we can race.”

For the first time since he arrived, Hajime unknits his brows. “I like running,” he says. “I’m really fast.”

 

It’s a summer Tooru remembers with mixed feelings. He recalls the rows between his parents, the realisation that simply because they smiled it didn’t mean they were happy. He’d cried at night, burying his head in the pillow so they couldn’t hear, and he’d finally understood why Hoshiyo’s eyes were so often red.

But it’s the summer he met Iwa-chan and, when he looks back, that outweighs all the bad.

 

_Nine_

Tooru’s eighth birthday was spent with family and Hajime. By his ninth, he’s made some more friends (despite vowing he wouldn’t) and his mum tells him he can invite them all to play. A party in the garden, sports if he’d like, or she can hire a magician, lay a treasure trail though the trees. She’ll set up a tent, hire anything he wants, order a large cake and his favourite food. Or they could go somewhere.

“Planetarium,” he says. “And I’d like a sleepover.”

“For how many boys, Tooru-chan?” she asks. “I can’t have twenty children staying the night, and it’s awkward if some of them are staying and the others have to leave.”

“Just Iwa-chan,” he replies. “For two nights because I want to spend the whole day with him, breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

He can tell she’s not really happy with the plan, for although she likes Hajime now, she frequently suggests other boys he could befriend. They’re boys at his school, or in the neighbourhood, and occasionally Tooru will play with them, but it’s only when he and Hajime have had a fight, or that time Hajime came down with chicken pox.

“What about inviting some others?” she suggests. “You’ll get bored spending the whole day together.”

“I never get bored with Iwa-chan,” he says stoutly. “And no one else likes Space.”

“Leave him be, Mum,” Hoshiyo mutters from the kitchen table. She’s back from college, spending a few days here for his birthday before dashing back to Tokyo to see her friends. “It’s his birthday, not yours.”

“I only want him to be happy,” she insists. “It’s not good to put all your eggs in one basket, Tooru-chan. What happens one day if Hajime isn’t there?”

 _What does she mean?_ “Of course he’ll be there. We’re going to be friends for ever and ever and ever.”

“For now, while you’re at Elementary School, yes, but what will happen when you move to Junior High?”

“He’s coming with me. Or I’m going with him,” he declares. “Anyway, that’s _ages_ away.”

He compromises, letting her invite other boys over to tea, and it’s fun in the end, especially the races across the lawn where Iwa-chan takes on everyone and wins.

It’s far better when they’ve all gone, though, and the pair of them eat smuggled chocolate cake in his bedroom and watch Star Wars on the laptop he was given for his birthday. And he knows Iwa-chan isn’t as interested in the film as he is – he’d rather watch something with flesh-eating monsters – but he joins in with Tooru’s excitement and doesn’t tease when he brings Obi-Wan out from his bed to watch the film, too.

 

_Twelve_

His mum has arranged a volleyball party this year at Little Tykes. Tooru didn’t have to thwart her plans at all because for once they were of one mind. Volleyball -with his team - because this will be the last year they play together.

He’s ready to leave, his teachers say, needing to stretch his burgeoning talent, because the coach at Watanku can’t teach him much more. And he wants to go – he aches for another challenge, for the chance to play with older players, _better_ players, to prove he can stand with them on court.

But one thing holds him back. It’s the cloud on his future, the one dark spot that threatens to blot out not just the summer sun, but everything light in his life.

“You have to accept, Tooru, that Hajime won’t be going to the same school as you,” his father says firmly. “Kitigawa Daiichi is an elite school, and the Iwaizumis simply do not have the money for the fees.”

“Then I won’t go,” he mutters and hunches himself up against the wall, closing his ears to reason.”You can’t make me.”

“Yes, I can, Tooru,” he snaps, his patience never good with recalcitrant children, only liking them when they smile. “Even if I have to drag you there myself, you will be attending that school.”

Tooru stares up at him, and suddenly, recklessly because he’s never challenged him before, he snaps back. “You’re never here. How are you going to make sure I attend the school _you_ want?”

“Tooru-chan.” His mum crouches down beside him, her hand on his arm as she breaks the tension between the pair of them, silencing her husband’s angry yowl with a look. “It’s your birthday tomorrow, and Hajime will be here soon for the sleepover. Let’s forget about this for now. You can’t change anything.”

“I know,” he mutters, but he uncurls his legs and gets to his feet.

It’s as his dad walks away, ostensibly saying he has work to do in his study, that Tooru speaks again, this time with a plea in his voice.

“You could pay.”

“What?”

“For Hajime. You could pay the fees, Dad, couldn’t you?”

He doesn’t even turn around. “Don’t be ridiculous, Tooru.”

“For my birthday,” he adds. “And the next and the next and the next. _Please._ It can be your present to me and I’ll never ask for anything else again.”

But his father, after a chuckle and a flap of his hand shuts himself in his study.

“I’m not joking, Mum,” he begs, plucking her sleeve.

“I know,” she whispers back, “I wish you were, Tooru-chan, because sometimes things cannot go the way you plan.”

 

Hajime appears at the house early for a change, and even more unusually, he has a beaming smile on his face. He waves goodbye to his Dad, hollering a ‘thank you’ as the car speeds away. In his hand is a gift wrapped in brown paper, but with pictures of volleyballs and aliens all over it. Despite his gloom, Tooru can’t help but smile, recognising Hajime’s brothers’ artwork.

“Iwa-chan, I want to open that!” he exclaims, when Hajime hides it behind his back.

“Nope, not your birthday yet,” he says, adding with a shrug, “It’s not much.”

He says that every year, and every year, Tooru tries to impress on him that it doesn’t matter, that the differences between them based on money, have never mattered.  Except now they do. Now it’s money that will separate them.

“Hey, guess what?” Hajime’s removed his shoes, handed over flowers to Tooru’s mum, and his smile is still bright, still wide and beaming, sunnier than the summer sky.

“Um, don’t know,” he replies, wondering if he’s supposed to guess.

“Dad’s got a promotion,” he says. “Found out today.”

“Ah, good.”

“He’ll have to work more shifts, and longer hours, but now the Chibis are older, then it’s easier for Mum, plus I said I’d help out as much as I could, in between studying and –” He stops for breath, laughing a little. “It’s brilliant.”

“Um, yes, it is,” Tooru murmurs, really not sure what this is about. “Why are you studying?”

Hajime stares at him, and then starts to laugh again. He whacks himself on the head, then punches Tooru on the chest. “Dad reckons if I study hard, then I’ll be eligible for a scholarship, and with his promotion as well, he’s said I can apply for Kitigawa Daiichi.” He falters. “That _is_ where you’re going, right?”

“Yes ...” The shudder of relief that heaves out of his chest leaves him lightheaded.

“One thing,” Hajime says, brushing past him, seemingly unaware that something momentous has occurred. “When we get to Junior High...”

“Mmm, what?”

“You are NOT to call me Iwa-chan. It’s a dumb baby name.”

“Can’t promise, that, Iwa-chaaaaan,” he says and squeals with glee.

He’ll make it, Tooru knows.  Hajime will study hard, ace his exams and join him at Junior High. And they’ll play volleyball, Oikawa becoming the best Setter there, while Hajime becomes another sort of Ace, slamming spikes hard to the ground.

 

 (He can still taste the joy, the delight and the very real relief from that day. But now, looking back, he wonders if it would have better if they’d severed their ties then.)

 

_Sixteen_

In a break from tradition, Tooru doesn’t spend his birthday eve with Iwa-chan in his bedroom. Instead, they’re outside in the garden, in a large marquee that his mum had hired for a party she’s going to host at the weekend for her thirtieth wedding anniversary.  Hoshiyo’s staying along with her husband and son, for all the family are expected to attend.

The other thing that’s different, is that this year Tooru’s asked two others. Matsukawa Issei and Hanamaki Takahiro are also first years at Aobajousai High, practising hard to get on the team, knowing it won’t be a lucky break that gets them a place on the team but hard work and skill.  Seijou have always been strong, and two first years have already dropped out, drifting to other less competitive clubs where the training isn’t as intense.

“Why do you have your sleepover the day before your party?” Mattsun (as Tooru likes to call him) asks.

“I like to wake up with friends,” is all he replies. “It’s ... um .... how long have we done this now, Iwa-chan?”

He shrugs. “Eight years? Something like that.”

“You go back a long way,” Makki says. “I guess that explains why you’re so in sync.”

“That and him bugging the life out of me to practise,” Hajime mutters. He gets up from the ground, rolling his shoulders. “I need a slash. Back in a bit. Oikawa, are we okay to use the bathroom?”

“I think my mother would prefer that to you peeing on her roses,” Tooru says dryly. “While you’re there, get some more drinks, will you? And crisps. And-”

“I only have two hands, Assikawa!”

“But very strong arms,” he says, and pouts a little, knowing it infuriates him more than the flattery.

Hajime mutters something – probably a rude something – under his breath, but says he’ll see what he can find and sets off, ignoring Makki’s ‘whipped’ catcall, and Mattsun’s laughter.

Tooru doesn’t join in, but watches him trudge up to the house, letting himself in through the French windows, the same doors he’d run through eight years before the first time he’d visited. They won’t have running races tomorrow, or the Planetarium or even the cinema, but practise in the park, then hanging out at a cafe for lunch. His parents’ party is taking priority over any celebration he might have wanted, but Tooru doesn’t mind. He’s not eight anymore, and his birthday doesn’t have to be only about him. With friends – with Iwa-chan – and a day of volleyball, he’s more than happy.

Hajime returns just when Tooru was starting to twitch. He sees the light from the house, and a figure silhouetted against it walking towards them. And he’s carrying something, that much is plain, but it’s not drinks and crisps, at least it’s not just snacks, but something heavier.

“Found this guy wandering around,” Hajime announces, and stepping into the light, he drops a bag of snacks to the floor, then lifts Tooru’s nephew off his back. “He wanted to say goodnight.”

Takeru, age five, stares at them all. His eyes are round, and he’s wary because he’s not met the other two before. Letting go of Hajime’s hand, he sidles over to Tooru, nestling between his crossed legs, clutching a toy to his chest.

“Why are you out here?” he whispers.

“Because four of us are too many to fit in my bedroom,” Tooru replies.

“I’m in there,” Takeru says, and juts out his bottom lip. “S’not fun without you, Tooru.”

He doesn’t tell him he should be asleep because he never listened when he was that age, either. “Watch the stars,” he says instead.

“With Wobbi?”

“Wobbi?”

“Uh-huh.” He shows Tooru the toy. It’s not Takeru’s but one he must have found in the room.

“Obi-Wan!” Tooru’s laughing, and catches Hajime’s eyes, noting that he’s grinning too.

 “What the fu- uh ... what the heck is that?” Mattsun asks. He leans across, tries to take the toy, but Takeru holds firm and scowls at him.

“Oikawa’s alien. Used to be dragged along everywhere, didn’t he?  Good old Obi-wan. ”

“He was on your bed,” Takeru announces. “So I thought you might need him to sleep.”

“Uh... was he?”Tooru bites his lip and stares at his hands.

“Yes.” His reply is certain.

It’s Makki who starts laughing first, crowing that Oikawa still has a toy in bed, and Mattsun joins in. It’s not nasty, just the normal ragging Tooru’s used to, and he waits for Hajime to snort because he’s always taking the piss over Tooru’s affection for a now old and bedraggled toy.

But Hajime crouches by Takeru, smiles a little and holds out his hand. “Do you mind if he joins our sleep-over, Take-chan? It’s kind of not a party without him.”

His eyes narrow. “Only if you let me have some crisps.”

They all laugh then, and Takeru joins the circle, sitting between Tooru and Hajime, Obi-Wan on his lap. And when he falls asleep, slumped forwards on a cushion, it’s Hajime who carries him back.

 

_Eighteen_

Although wordless, the look on Hani’s face screams fury. Not embarrassment, but cold, white hard- edged anger, so he prepares himself for the tongue lashing and probably a slap across the face. He even smiles because although he doesn’t actually want to upset her, he’s seen anger far worse than anything she can shoot his way.

“I’m your girlfriend,” she says at last, the rage barely controlled in a spit of whispers and a flurry of hand gestures. “I’ve prepared something. I’ve made an effort. We have plans and you-”

“Hani-kun,” he murmurs, in what he hopes in a soothing tone. “ _You_ made plans, but I already had some.”

“Doing what?  Volleyball? Again? For the whole day?”

He could nod and look apologetic, lie because although angry, she’ll accept volleyball as his excuse, but she’d only find out. Instead, he sticks his hands in his pockets casts his eyes to the ground before flicking her a look from beneath his lashes, adding his most helplessly charming smile.

“I always spend my birthday with Iwa-chan.”

“Iwaizumi!” His smile didn’t work, in fact it seemed to enrage her more. “You’d rather spend your day with _him_ than your actual girlfriend!”

The answer was so simple and he was amazed she couldn’t see that, but she was still questioning it, maybe thinking he was touched in the head.

And perhaps he should placate her more, apologise, or even fit in with her plans for his day, but he won’t do that, whatever the consequences because dumping Iwa-chan for Hani is something that’s never crossed his mind.

 

This is the tenth birthday that he’s woken with the sunrise on his face, turned over and seen Hajime next to him. It used to be two boys sharing a bed with an alien toy, but now Hajime sleeps on a futon, still close, still there, still silent apart from his breaths.

Tooru watches him. He’s always watched him, because he’s always the first to wake, but it’s only now that he thinks about how he never wants this to end.

 

_Nineteen_

The blinds are closed, shut tight against the sunrise, but still he stirs. Or maybe it’s that he hasn’t slept after slumping into bed past midnight, and the times he did close his eyes didn’t last enough to refresh him.

He’s not at home but in Tokyo, refusing to return for the summer despite his mother’s pleas, telling her he needs to stay because if he wants to make the first team, he has to practise.

Turning over, he stretches out his arm, coming into contact with nothing but sheets and a misplaced pillow. Tooru opens his eyes, taking in the shades of grey that mirror the fug in his mind.

He’s made friends, found an Ace to work with and it won’t be long before he gets his chance. He’s too good to stay on the bench, and his upperclassmen know that, treating him respectfully, with none of the condescension they reserve for his peers. His life is good. Very good. Girls flock to him. Boys too. He could take his pick.

He could so easily, and sometimes the temptation gnaws at him, because he’s alone with not even an alien toy (now shoved at the back of his wardrobe back home) to help him escape.

That he misses _him_ is something he laughs off during the day, but here in the drear of dawn, as he wakes to another year older, he feels the need in him change from a dull ache to the twist of a knife.  

And he dreams of that day, long ago, when he clasped a hand in his and they ran and ran around the garden.

It would be simple. He could pick up his phone, call, or send the however many messages he has saved to draft. If he made the first move, Iwa-chan would be here – of that he’s sure.

It would be simple.

But he can’t move.


End file.
